


The Edge of Doom

by Brumeier



Series: Bite Sized Fic [72]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Chronic Illness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hospitalization, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 11:24:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6982711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LJ Comment Fic for Slash prompt: <i>Avengers movieverse, Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes (or ex-Winter Soldier), if you die, I die. so you’d better live.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Edge of Doom

Steve had inherited his weak heart from his mother, and so he always knew that someday it would fail him, as hers did. He’d refused to let that weakness define him. He had a normal childhood, as much as he could. Got into his share of fights with bigger, meaner kids who didn’t think he’d stand up for himself. His mom wouldn’t let him play sports, but he went to the games and cheered for his school, his friends. Bucky.

When Steve got older he found a personal trainer who had experience working with people who had heart conditions. He put on some muscle, he ate right, he exercised regularly. The heart was weak, but the shell that encased it was as fit as it was possible to be. He didn’t look sick.

“Steve?” Bucky stood in the doorway of Steve’s hospital room, shoulders hunched and looking about as miserable as a person could.

“You didn’t have to stay,” Steve said. “I know how much you hate this place.”

Truth be told, Steve wasn’t a big fan of it himself. He came for regular check-ups with Dr. Fullwood, the heart specialist, and had spent weeks sitting with his mother when her heart slowly started giving out. There weren’t a lot of good memories for him there, which was why he always tried to swing by the Maternity ward before he left; seeing all that new life, with so much potential, always made him feel a little better.

“How you doin’?” Bucky asked.

“I’d be doing better if you’d stop hovering in the doorway. Sit down.”

Bucky took the seat beside the bed, his posture stiff. He’d been nothing but calm when he called 911, requesting an ambulance. He’d helped keep Steve, who’d been having some chest pains and trouble breathing, from freaking out and making things worse. Steve imagined Bucky had been like that in the line of fire, too, when he was still in the Army. Keeping a cool head, being a good leader. He’d saved lives over there, had medals that said so.

“It’s getting worse. Isn’t it?” Bucky looked down at his hands, fingers clenching and unclenching.

“Cardiomyopathy isn’t something that’s fixable, Bucky. You know that.”

“You could stop being a fucking martyr and put yourself on the transplant list.” Bucky looked up and his eyes were flashing with anger. “You deserve a new heart just as much as anyone else. I’d give you mine if I thought you’d take it.”

Steve sighed. “I’m not having this argument with you again.”

Dr. Fullwood had tried changing his mind, too. He was a good candidate, she’d said. Healthy in every other way. Young and deserving of a long life. It wasn’t that Steve didn’t agree with that, any of it, but he was just a florist. There were others who needed a healthy heart more than he did. Kids. Veterans. People who were out there changing the world, trying to make it a better place.

“You’re a selfish asshole,” Bucky muttered. There was no heat behind the epithet, not when Steve could see that Bucky’s eyes were shimmering with tears.

“Hey. It’s okay. This was nothing; I just overdid it a little. I’m fine.”

“You don’t get it. You never did.” Bucky crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re all I…the only good thing is… _fuck_.”

Steve was getting alarmed. He and Bucky shared a lot of things, had a lot of history, but talking about their feelings had always been dicey subject matter. They called each other names, ragged on each other, but big declarations were unnecessary. At least, he’d thought they were.

“Bucky, don’t.”

“If you die, I die. Period.” Bucky wiped angrily at his face, dashing away some of the moisture that had escaped his eyes.

Steve’s chest was hurting. This pain had nothing to do with his heart, and everything to do with how deeply, desperately in love he was with Bucky. Steve couldn’t stand seeing him hurting, especially when he was the cause of it. Bucky’d had enough pain to last a lifetime.

“Don’t say that,” Steve whispered. “It’s not fair.”

“It’s true.”

He knew it was. That’s what made it hurt so much. Steve moved over on the bed, and patted the mattress.

“Come here.”

Bucky sniffed once, hard, and then he squeezed himself on the bed with Steve. They’d been taking the changes to their relationship slowly, hadn’t really moved much beyond kissing, and Steve thought maybe it was partly because Bucky was afraid of hurting him, and partly because Steve didn’t want to spook Bucky. Whatever the reason, all he wanted in that moment was Bucky’s arms around him, holding him tight and rooting him to the here and now.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured against Bucky’s neck. They fit together like they’d been doing it for years, Steve’s head tucked under Bucky’s chin. It felt good. Right. _Safe_.

“You can’t make that promise.” 

Steve had no answer for that. He just burrowed closer to Bucky, held on, and let his eyelids droop. It had been a long, exhausting day. He knew the nurses would eventually kick Bucky out, but until then Steve was going to take advantage of his warmth and his strength.

And maybe…maybe it was time to rethink the transplant waiting list.

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** Title comes from Shakespeare’s Sonnet 116 ( _Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks/but bears it out even to the edge of doom._ )


End file.
